Existances
by EEevee
Summary: Nabari no Ou Sometimes just being alive is hard enough.
1. God

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Title: God

Author: Eeevee

Disclaimer: Purely fanwork. No money has been made. Property of it's creators.

Author's note:

I would like to quickly say this set contains two drabbles and a ficlet. However, they were written without aid of the internet (while I was trapped on a Disney cruise... I think I'm scarred) or the series itself, so forgive any glaring errors. They were also all written without any knowledge of the manga and before episode 12 of the anime series. There will be some discrepancies. Lastly, they have been proofread by myself but not beta-ed.

* * *

Yoite could feel Rokujo peering at him beneath thick, black lashes. His green gaze was so obvious, despite his attempts to hide it. The boy then blinked and turned his eyes towards the dark, spangled sky. The silence settled comfortably over the pair, leaving only the crickets to sing their conquests and glories.

It was hard to believe that the jaded, confused soul sitting next to him could possibly hold the fate of the world inside of him. It was equally hard to believe that the lanky, cold-eyed boy had become Kira, Yoite reflected. He knew what people saw in him… a monster. And that's what he was.

Yet, somehow, Rokujo was different.

Yoite leaned back further, putting weight on his palms and kicking his heels up a little higher. His trademark hat was crumpled fabric under his long, thin fingers and his hair brushed his face. He could feel the wind even though his jacket but it didn't bother him.

"Hey, Yoite, do you ever wonder what it'd be like to be normal?" Rokujo quiered, then added pensively, "I mean, really normal. Go to school, cram for exams, and grow up."

The other boy didn't even blink or pause, "No."

"I used to try." Rokujo admitted, reaching down to pet his cat. The animal rumbled in pleasure as he rubbed its triangular ears in soothing circles. "To be normal, I mean."

Yoite didn't answer.

"But that was stupid."

"Of course it was." Yoite finally answered, frowning. He turned to fix his bottomless stare on the younger boy. "Kira is terror and power; you are knowledge and wisdom."

A ghost of a smile lit up the boy's pale face, "Then we compliment one another."

Yoite growled softly. "I didn't say you were soft. Remember your promise, or your friends will pay."

A dry crackle rose from his chest at his threat, and he turned his head to hack out a dry, painful cough. The action made him double over, clutching his chest and wondering dully when his misery would end, his existence snuffed. Perhaps if he never existed, then he would never really die. A trickle of warm, crimson dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with heedless fingers.

He had begun as a tiny flame, with a passionate seriousness to do his duty. And just like fire, he was a tool to be used by man. As Kira he raged into an uncontrollable yet barely contained inferno. His cold, calculated rage at him, at humans, and at the world drove his devastating path. Now, now he was a gutted flame. He nestled in the ashes of destroyed bridges and homes alike, breathless and helpless. Suffocating slowly, oh so slowly.

"If I were normal I wouldn't be your friend." Yoite could hear Rokujo's tongue stumble over the word friend, just as his own mind had difficulty with the exact same word.

Hastily he snatched up his hat and rocked to his feet off the porch's edge. He turned slightly and barked, "Have your end of the bargain ready."

Rokujo nodded, not moving, his big, green eyes watching. Yoite turned to head off across the dark courtyard, a sure, quiet voice followed him.

"I am your friend."

He didn't pause.

"And I'll grant your wish because I'm your friend. If that is what you wish, then I want to grant it for you. Even if… if it hurts me."

The taller boy paused in the shadows, partly to catch his precarious balance and partly to consider the words. Impatiently he whirled around and promptly lost his balance again. Before he could catch himself a small, warm body tucked itself against him. Small, bird-like fingers pressed warmly against his cold, wasting wrists, steadying him. He could feel his heartbeat, erratic and feeble, and he could feel Rokujo's, calm and strong.

He tried to tear himself away only to find he couldn't escape. Warmth spread across his chilled, dying flesh. It radiated out from his captured lips and caught fire to what he had thought to only be burnt wasteland.

Hissing, he pushed the smaller boy away roughly, careful not to make eye contact. Staggering, he pressed fingertips desperately to his burning lips and dug his other hand into the fabric around his chest.

"We'll get the book tomorrow." The promise rang out calmly from behind him. He didn't dare risk a glance back. He was too busy struggling with? For? Against? The fleeting, trembling spark that was rising in his chest.

A spark that warmed rather than consumed.

One that he instantly loved yet hated with an equal passion.

And one that had only one master.

"Rokujo." He whispered to himself. His sinful savior, his beautiful betrayer.

His creator and destroyer.

His God.


	2. Endings

Title: Endings

Author: Eeevee

Disclaimer: Purely fanwork. No money has been made. Property of it's creators.

* * *

The Shin Ra tore wildly at Rokujo's call

The Shin Ra tore wildly at Rokujo's call. Eerie green letters twisted and writhed in the dark, unnatural wind that whirled around them. The faint smell of death permeated the air, seeping into everything, clinging like a spritz of yesterday's perfume.

Thobari had ceased the useless struggle to reach his charge, ignoring the slaughter and bloodshed from the ninjas battling around him, and stood watching. Again. He could see in the other ninjas' faces horror, awe, anticipation, and panic. He knew his own, however, was only a mask of anguish.

He knew.

He knew what happened when the Shin Ra was invoked, the lethal knowledge unleashed on the world.

It was much like the power of Kira, although some might despise the comparison. You didn't command it, only a fool would think so, it used you. It extracted an impossible price, a barbaric fee for its services.

Fuuma stood off a little to his left. The ribbon had been torn from his hair and there was a wild look of longing in his eye. It was the look of a dying man who has found salvation: starved desperation and manic glee. Thobari knew of his thoughts and plan, and all at once was utterly disgusted.

He was aware that he was a poor ninja to begin with. An ignorant, bumbling civilian life may actually have suited him better. Perhaps after this was all over…

Then he could leave his disgust and misgivings about the life he led in the thralls of a memory ninjutsu. He understood that the ninja code stood and was abided by to maintain order. It prevented widespread war between the clans and held up the veil of invisibility from the other world. However, his treacherous bleeding heart, the one that saw Rokujo as a lonely, unloved child, rather than a tool with unbridled power… it hindered him and made him weak. He was the weak link in a pack of rabid animals. It was amazing to him that he was still alive with the bleeding heart he paraded around on his sleeve.

Aizawa leapt past him, clearly intent on finishing his assigned mission, no matter what the cost. Thobari had always sensed a personal interest, but Aizawa was all business at the moment. Thobari winced as the warm spray of metallic blood splattered across his face and lips. He coolly step sided as the broken body of a child staggered past him with glassy eyes and cherry lips. One… two… three steps. Aizawa had gotten his wish. Thobari didn't bother to try to wipe the blood away or move the collapsed pile of lifeless flesh and broken limbs.

Silently his heart grieved over the boy's fate, but he was saving his tears. They weren't of any use on the battlefield.

Raimei flashed past, trapped and tangled in her own cruel fate. She struggled passionately against the strikes of her brother's harsh sword. The cuts and slices across her pale skin decorated her like tribal tattoos. Each parry was just a little weaker, just a tad slower. She stumbled back and her brother closed in. His merciless blade flashed in the green light as it arced down, clearly intending to sever her head. Lithe as a cat, Raimei twisted away and intercepted the swing with her shoulder. The sound of her joint being destroyed and her screams of pain made Thobari turn. He wanted to look away, but honor and devotion held his ebony eyes.

The sound of her bloodied blade sliding into her brother's chest, past the ribs, and into his still-beating heart was hardly above a whisper. His eyes widened in shock and his lips whispered to her even as he crumpled, the life draining from his limp form. Raimei sobbed, sinking down to cradle his motionless body, heedless of the chaos around her.

Thobari took a step forward and then clapped his hands over his ears. He twisted and buckled, feeling the pressure of Kira constricting his body like a giant, phantom snake.

"Yoite, no!"

The lanky teacher fell forward and crumpled into the blood-soaked ground.

The explosion was silent but the wrenching in his gut and lungs was excruciating. But it was nothing compared to the torment in his heart.

When he looked up it was the same as before.

Nothing.

There was nothing left. No Rokujo, no Kira. Even the bodies of the fallen and the living bodies of those unfortunates to be too close… were gone. All that remained was a black smudge of chard ground and forest.

"Astounding." Fuuma remarked calmly and Thobari promptly emptied his stomach, heart, and soul.

It was over.


	3. Senses

Title: Senses

Author: Eeevee

Disclaimer: Purely fanwork. No money has been made. Property of it's creators.

* * *

Reaching around the corner, he flipped on the light

Reaching around the corner, he flipped on the light. It was a startling contrast to the dark, velvet night he had just come from, and it took a moment of wincing and blinking to adjust. The sparse room greeted him, the dull black leather couch and sleek coffee table filling the far side.

He placed his coat on the hook and neatly tucked his shoes at the door before stepping in.

Suddenly, his cell phone trilled at him. With a sigh, he picked it up.

"You don't have to call me every time you know."

He cocked his head at the voice and rolled his emerald eyes slightly at the ever-ready reply of undying devotion. It got old.

"Well, I'm fine, mommy-dearest. I'm going to bed now." He clicked the phone shut and tossed it on the coffee table. It skittered to a stop, face down.

At least he had finally convinced them that he didn't need an escort to use the toilet. Everyone was so damn afraid of him getting assassinated; it made them clingy. He was used to having quiet time to himself, and he certainly wasn't interested in sharing his bed with any of the female ninja that threw themselves at him, calling themselves "bodyguards." He highly doubted that any woman who struggled that hard to protect their virtue could ever throw their body in front of the proverbial bullet.

Instead of going to bed, he threw himself down on the couch and picked up a small, bound novel. Fingering the red silk bookmark, he flipped open the pages. For a second he stared in puzzlement at the page before him. Then he tucked his fingertips under several more pages and flipped slowly before landing on the correct page.

"I must be losing my mind." He muttered to himself, convinced the error was created by his overworked psyche. Bookmarks didn't just move themselves, nor did book read themselves.

Feeling restless, he pushed the book aside and paced a little. It was his new way of dealing with all the stress in his life. As a child he would have scorned such a neurotic way of coping, but it was this or do as Thobari-sensei suggested and "get help." Or drug himself to apathy; that was always an option too. Although, that might make the power inside of him awaken and wreck havoc.

This wasn't the first time he had found little things out of place. An odd little light left on, his computer chair slightly cockeyed, the radio station dial flicked to the left. It was easy to write them off at first, but over time they were starting to pile up. The coincidences were becoming too common.

He rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling his dark hair, and noting he was due for another haircut. Little things like that tended to get buried under paperwork and meetings and other glorious leadership stuff. Normally Raimei would have wrangled him into a chair and cut it herself, but she was out of town on a mission still.

His phone vibrated and jingled, indicating he had a text message.

Snatching it up, he flipped the screen open and clicked the center button. A slight smirk came to his face and he hastily texted a short message back. Apparently Raikou had crashed yet another car and Raimei was livid because they were now stuck in the middle of nowhere. His message, of course, explained that the clan was most certainly not going to pay for the damages incurred. He ignored the resulting jingle and let the smirk spread across his whole face. Even the jingle had sounded angry.

Deciding suddenly that he really was tired, he yawned. Padding on socked feet, he wandered towards the bedroom in the dark. He knew his small apartment by heart, so there was no need for light.

He felt the presence as he neared the bedroom.

He had been feeling eyes for the last few weeks. Dangerous eyes but not necessarily threatening ones. Now he could feel those eyes again, staring at him from the empty space across the bedroom.

Just as soon as he felt it for sure, it was gone.

He turned on the light just to be sure. But of course, the bed was empty and the room was bare. Even the window was sealed shut, something that should be impossible to do from the outside.

"Crazy. I'm going crazy." He told himself as he stripped, never entirely losing that voyeuristic feel over his slender body. He had grown taller over the last five years, filled out his lanky, youthful frame with muscles from training.

It was ridiculous to think someone was stalking him. It was not only ridiculous but flat out impossible. Even the best ninja on earth couldn't get past the security places on his apartment, let alone lounge around reading his books and sleeping in between his sheets. Not only did he have seals and alarms, but there were armed guards as security all around not only the building but the surrounding area.

Besides, if there was such a ninja, he'd be dead. It was as simple as that because stalkers usually had murderous intent on their mind. They weren't stopping in for a cup of tea and a borrow umbrella to get home in the rain.

However, when he hit the sheets, he knew.

He wasn't crazy.

Pressing his cheek into the pillow, he was puzzled. Slender fingers gripped the warm fabric and his toes uncurled at the foot of the bed. Breathing deeply with nose to fabric, he knew the smell tugged at his memory, but he couldn't place it.

Slowly his eyes dropped then closed and his fingers uncurled. The last words mumbled on his lips were, "I don't suppose it's a guardian angel?"

Crimson splattered Miharu's white cheek and pale lips. He made no move to wipe the spots off, concentrating on the attacker's next move. Thobari landed awkwardly beside him, trying to shield him and not block his vision at the same time. The blood dripped out from beneath his long, black sleeve, creating a small puddle.

Miharu couldn't help rolling his eyes. Thobari certainly made things much harder on himself than he needed to. He obviously out-classed the ninjas before them, but still he was the one injured.

"So much for peace negotiation." Miharu said to Thobari with a bored look on his face, "You can finish it or I will."

Thobari nodded, knowing that Miharu was catering to his weakness. If Miharu took care of it, those ninjas would never rise again. The lanky ninja flashed out, surprising his foes with his swift and concise strikes. Within a moment it was over. He fished around their clothing but found no signs of the clan they belonged to. Shaking his head, he walked back over.

"No identification."

"I didn't expect any. They seem to be low-class mercenaries. How tacky."

Thobari hesitated, and then he said, "There were more."

Miharu's emerald eyes cut across sharply, "And?"

"Someone else dispatched them first."

"But no one else from our Clan should know where we were going." Miharu protested, briefly wondering if he felt eyes earlier.

"Because it was a stupid idea! I keep telling you, you're the leader now. You don't have to keep doing stupid things to protect others. Let us protect you. Can't you trust us with that? Aizawa, Raimei, myself? Stop putting yourself in danger for these stupid talks."

"Quit being so paranoid." Miharu snapped back, "I can do this."

Thobari sighed and cupped his face with his palm, "Why me?" He bemoaned and then looked at the younger man from between his fingers, "And why are you so stubborn! You've always been like this. Doing what you want with no concern for others. At least before Yoite—." His mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened in frozen horror.

"Who?"

"N-nothing. N-no one." The lanky ninja backpedaled hastily, "Must have meant Raimei or something."

Miharu's eyes narrowed and he put on a sickly-sweet smile, "You said Yoite."

Thobari's mouth gasped like a fish out of water before he finally fell to his knees from the lack of air. After five years, he still had no better way to combat Miharu's devilish streak other than to crumple. If anything, the child had grown into a handsome young man, and the look fit him like a second skin. It was a definite advantage, and one he used at will, not just against his subordinates but other clan leaders.

"Never mind." Miharu finally relented, when he was sure that Thobari wasn't going to die of oxygen deprivation or give him the information. The man was annoyingly bullheaded sometimes. Still, the name rang in his mind.

Why was it so familiar?

Miharu felt like an intruder in his own house, like a thief staking out the place. Actually, mostly he felt idiotic and ridiculous. Sneaking around with the lights off and creeping around near-silently trying to catch a phantom ranked highly on his 'this is a stupid idea and I can't believe I'm doing it' list.

It had started again when he got back from the mission. He had proceeded directly to the bathroom. His face was still coated in a dusting of Thobari's dried blood and his clothing was stained and dirty. He simply wanted to be clean.

However, that towel… was not where he put it. At all. And he knew because it was his favorite towel. It had been washed just enough that it was soft without being threadbare. He always hung it on the left peg, just a bit further away than the other towels. Considering how often he catered to guests of the bloody, filthy nature, he had learned to keep his favorite things tucked out of reach.

He was slightly disturbed that someone was in his house, using his things, and probably eating his food—what little he kept in his refrigerator that is. Mostly he was just puzzled. Who would even bother? The security breach aside, what was so tempting about his residence? It was sparsely furnished at best, mostly boasting old but comfortable furniture and several large bookcases. There were no rich or extravagant items. All of his Clan scrolls, techniques, and paperwork were stored elsewhere for two reasons: he didn't want to be surrounded by that stuff at home on his off time and it was much safer hidden.

Coming around the corner, he was surprised to see the small lamp lit and the book abandoned on the coffee table. It was laid down carefully; obviously the user hadn't wanted to dog-ear it but didn't have time to set the bookmark. Miharu picked it up and placed the bookmark in the page subconsciously. He sat on the couch in the same spot as the warm indention and pondered.

He had been so close.

"Who is Yoite?"

Thobari choked on his cup of coffee, sputtering the hot, dark liquid all over. He simultaneously choked, sputtered incoherent excuses, and tried to mop up the mess with a napkin. If Miharu were actually paying attention, he would've been impressed at the multitasking. However, he wanted an answer, not a spectacle.

"W-wh-what… I don't know w-what… ouch, god damn it." He stuck out his tongue to cool it off, wincing at the burn.

"As your leader, whom you have pledged your life and obedience to, who is Yoite?" Miharu commanded coldly and Thobari stopped dead. The older man turned towards him with the 'you-don't-really-mean-it' look. "Answer me, or I will have you pay for your disobedience."

Thobari bowed his head and went down to one knee, "Yes, leader."

Miharu almost made a face at his utter submissiveness, but he was afraid this was going too easily. Thobari never gave anything away. It was one of the few shinobi things he excelled at.

"I was told not to tell you about this…"

"By whom?"

"You." Thobari replied lowly, keeping his head ducked down so Miharu couldn't read his expression, "You wanted to keep a promise you made. It was very important to you."

"Well, circumstances have changed." Miharu couldn't imagine that he'd so badly want to forget this secret that he forbid himself knowing it. What kind of promise was it that he wasn't to know?

He could tell the question was on Thobari's tongue but the older man continued, "The only reason I remember, and no one else does, is because of the power used." His shoulders sagged a little with some invisible weight but his voice didn't waver, "If it had been granted completely, then even I wouldn't recall who Yoite was."

"Was?"

"You granted his wish." Thobari said in a still, flat voice. "You erased his existence. Except you didn't because of my immunity."

"Erased his existence?" Miharu furrowed his brow. The way it was said, he obviously didn't kill this Yoite person. But he wasn't sure he knew what Thobari was saying to him. Why would you want to make someone cease to exist? "So he never existed?"

"Precisely."

"So he still has an existence because of you? Because you know about him?"

"Yes. I know of him; I've never forgotten. So he still roams this earth, invisible to all, forgotten by all." Thobari mumbled. He looked up, his dark eyes hiding nothing and everything at the same time. He shrugged and rose, brushing off his knees. "Are you satisfied now? Yoite used to be a Kira user and your friend. But now he's just a ghost of a person."

_A ghost of a person_.

That phrase echoed in Miharu's ears. Ghosts were invisible but they still had a presence. His guards certainly wouldn't spot a ghost. Nor would he.

"How do you know he still exists?"

Thobari blinked, looking uncomfortable, and then reluctantly answered, "Because I've seen him."

"Two days ago?" Miharu pressed and Thobari nodded abruptly. "When those foreign ninjas were dispatched, that was Yoite?" Thobari nodded again, slowly. "And you hid this from me."

"Like you would have believed me before! You would have thought I was crazy."

"I still think you're crazy." Miharu corrected, "I'm going home. Please don't call to see if I've arrived safely."

Of course, the moment Miharu walked into the entry way of his apartment, the phone rang. He listened to it ring a few times before he picked it up.

"Yes Mommy." He replied, "I didn't talk to or take candy from strangers. I was a good boy and came straight home."

He dutifully listened to the message, the same message he received every time he was out of Thobari's sight, and then clicked the phone shut.

"You know, Thobari told me about you Yoite." Miharu felt slightly foolish talking to thin air. For all he knew, he was addressing the roach population under the fridge. He removed his shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Without really paying attention, he turned on the kettle for some tea.

Once it was ready, he set out two cups and poured the tea for both of them. He placed the second cup across from him and proceeded to enjoy his tea.

"I have to be honest. I don't remember your wish or the promise I made to you. Or even who you are. But it seems that I didn't come through on my promise, so you're here now."

He set the cup down gently.

"And I don't know how to fix it."

He wasn't expecting a reply and he didn't get one.

"But I'll figure it out for you, Yoite. I promise. In the meantime, feel free to use whatever I have… but not my towel, okay?"

He washed up the tea and turned off the lights before shuffling off to his bedroom. He changed, noticing there was a lack of eyes this evening, and then said loudly, "So it's a deal."

His light flicked off in what he hoped was an agreement.

The next few weeks were extremely tiresome. He had to reschedule the peace negotiations, since the previous ones had been interrupted. In addition to them he had to fill out all the usual paperwork and oversee his villagers. To complicate matters, Raimei had returned, and she insisted that he not only get a haircut but that he also take a break or two to go out and socialize. Thobari never said another word about their earlier conversation but he hovered incessantly. To the point where Miharu had to shoo him off, telling him to attend to his other duties, namely his family.

Any free time he had was spent digging through scrolls. Unfortunately, since he didn't know exactly what he was looking for or even if there was information on what he was looking for, it was nearly impossible. He spent endless hours digging through worthless knowledge, wondering what genius decided to write down all this useless drivel. Some of it was downright mind numbing.

He still had conversations with his apartment, occasionally receiving a reply. He finally stopped jumping when things moved or the lights flicked off on him. He wasn't sure what to make of his covers tucking themselves under his chin that on night, but he had been too tired to care.

Of course, all written material there may have been on his house guest was erased, as were everyone's memories. When he had tried it out on Raimei, she had laughed it off, thinking he was kidding.

Eventually he was frustrated enough that he decided to corner Thobari again. It was easier said than done, since the man had taken his advice to heart and had disappeared. Or maybe he knew what was coming and took off. That was actually more likely. There was a reason such a soft ninja had lived as long as he had.

"I'm not giving up." He muttered to himself and sneezed at the dust down in the bowels of yet another library. "There has to be a way to make it work." Killing Thobari had briefly crossed his mind, half in jest; the man irritated him enough. It wasn't a serious thought though, and a useless one, since he also now knew about Yoite.

There was only one other person he trusted that might be able to help him. But then that was one more person who would understand Yoite's existence. And that seemed to be a one step forward, two steps back approach.

He approach Aizawa with the problem, hypothetically, and listened patiently to the answer. There was no doubt Aizawa suspected something, but the white haired boy answered candidly.

"I'm not having much luck." Miharu admitted, sitting on his couch in the dim light. The book was resting in his lap, unopened. "Aizawa had an idea, but I don't see how it would work in practice."

Pausing, Miharu tried to figure out how to say things positively.

"He suggested that it might not be possible to erase your existence completely as it stands now… in fact, he asked if you still wanted your existence taken away. Or if you were tired of it yet, of being an immortal nothing, and wanted to come fully into being again?" Miharu narrowed his green eyes and slouched back further into the couch. He was silent for a long while.

Eventually he got up and clicked the desk lamp off. He had pitched the idea, as silly as it sounded, and there was nothing more he could do that night. He had several meetings early in the morning, specifically with some of his wilder subordinates.

When he climbed into bed he was surprised to hit something solid and warm. When he peered over his shoulder he could see the lump under the covers but nothing beneath. Still, he could feel a warm back pressed solidly against his own back. For a moment he was stiff, barely breathing, trying to make sense of two thoughts at once. One, his guest was _in his bed_ with _him_. Two, Yoite was emitting heat and was solid. These were two things that had never happened before.

Slowly he unclenched all of his muscles. Snuggling down into the blankets like a little cat he closed his eyes. It had been a long time since he had the pleasure of sharing space with a trusted friend. And it was possibly the best night's sleep he had had in an equally long time.

Panting, Miharu hit the ground and let his legs fold under him. His body rolled over several times before bumping into a brick wall. He uncurled, reaching for his knives, and pushed back the urge to release his power. It had been a long time since he had such an overwhelming urge to simply obliterate everything and assure his dominance over the world of Nabari. These insolent pissants were intolerable and needed to feel his wrath to remember why they should be trembling and groveling for their miserable lives.

"Haha, some great leader." One of the ninjas taunted, ignorant to his position. He hit the ground with a leer, "You're not so great without your bodyguards, are you?"

Miharu gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. It was stupid that he was cornered like this. And for once, it was entirely his fault for being separated and unprotected.

"Get away." He warned in a low growl. Black letters were creeping across his wrists and crawled out from under his fingernails. Like vicious ants, they seeped up his neck and marched across his chin. "Or you won't live to regret it."

The ninjas seemed nervous but they had their mission. The first one lunged forward only to be hit in midair with convulsions. He screamed and fell to the ground, twitching and seizing madly. With one final spasm, he went limp, limbs askew and blood trickling from his parted lips. The rest of the ninjas, a half step behind their leader, couldn't stop in time. Their eyes widened at the sight before they themselves were screaming and falling to meet the cold pavement.

"Yoite." Miharu realized instinctively what happened even though he had never seen a Kira user in person. The black letters retreated swiftly and his pupils expanded from pinpricks.

He could feel Yoite following him all the way back to headquarters, a step behind him, even as he got a tongue lashing for his fool stunt from several ninjas. Blindly he grabbed at air, felt what he was looking for, and wrapped his fingers around the other's fingers. A slight pressure greeted his needy gesture.

This time he could feel the fabric, realizing for the first time that Yoite wore gloves.

"Of all the stupid, ignorant things…" Thobari remarked tightly. He had returned from a surveillance mission and the first thing he heard about was Miharu's near miss. Not surprising in the slightest he had to give Miharu a piece of his mind about the whole disaster, "…and I don't know if you're lucky as sin or just in league with the devil…"

Miharu grinned a little at that.

Somehow he wasn't surprised when he could see a faint, shimmering outline of his personal ghost. Even though humans relied mostly on sight, ninjas had long ago learned that the other senses were much sharper. It made sense that he would feel and smell Yoite long before the other man was visible to him.

He never brought it up however.

No one else could see Yoite in any case, except Thobari. Miharu could always tell when he did because Thobari made a point of turning around with a politely blank expression. Apparently Miharu still wasn't fully forgiven for pulling rank and dragging his jealously guarded secret out of him. Miharu didn't know the full history, but he also suspected that Thobari may not have supported his original decision on the matter in the past either.

"Miharu's got a girl." Raimei whispered in a conspiratorial tone to Aizawa one morning, "Why else would he look so happy? Miharu's _never_ this happy, especially not this early. I wonder who the lucky girl is…"

Miharu rolled his eyes but couldn't resist a peek in the mirror. He didn't see any difference but he assumed that was because he didn't have a woman's intuition.

The first whisper almost didn't reach him.

It was his name.

Miharu… Miharu…

For half a fuzzy, sleep-filled second he imagined it was his grandmother calling him for breakfast. He cuddled down further into the warm blankets, reluctant to fully wake up. Until he realized his grandmother had died of cancer three years ago. Then his eyes snapped open, ready for trouble.

Instead the phone buzzed frantically on his nightstand. He glared at it through blurry lashes and thumped it with his palm. It buzzed like a hornet under his hand until he picked it up. Within moments he was dressed and rushing out the door, sure that Yoite would lock up for him.

It didn't occur to him until the crisis was taken care of that he had heard Yoite's voice. It was so soft, so cold he wondered if it could actually belong to the warm, steady body he slept against every night.

It wasn't until Raimei mentioned something that Miharu realized that it wasn't just him anymore.

"Who's that guy, Miharu? The one with the gloves and the hat?"

Miharu was so used to Yoite following him like a second shadow most of the day that it took a few moments to realize what she had just said. By that time Yoite had disappeared. Raimei's puzzled apology and Aizawa's look were enough to make Miharu retreat into his paperwork.

It didn't take long for the rumors to circulate.

Miharu dismissed them all, unsure of how he should explain it, or even if he should explain it.

A small part of him didn't want to explain it. Because if he explained it, then he would have to show the world his ghost, his shadow, his irreplaceable companion.

"Yoite." He asked in the still dark, the question troubling his mind, "Do you still want to disappear?"

The warmth behind him shifted a little and he could feel those blue eyes on him. He wiggled around until he was facing Yoite. Green eyes and blue eyes met. Miharu looked at him steadily, patiently waiting for an answer.

"I… don't know." The hoarse whisper troubled Miharu far more than a yes or a no would have. Hesitation in the ninja world was deadly; he had learned to be decisive. The feeling of maybe left his insides clenched. Especially since he was hoping the answer would have been 'no.'

"I can see you. And I haven't found any clues to fixing it." Miharu reasoned. "I can touch you and hear you."

Yoite's expression didn't change.

"I would like you to exist. Completely." Miharu remarked honestly. "But I made a promise, and I'll stick by it. I still have the Fuuma library; perhaps it will have the answer."

There was a long silence.

"I don't know."

Miharu rolled back over. He pretended to fall asleep but his mind was whirling.

"Uh-oh, Miharu and the lady had a fight." Raimei whispered loudly.

"More like Miharu's ghost was keeping him up." Aizawa smirked back, his ruby eyes glittering.

"Guys!" Gau protested, missing most of the exchange, but understanding enough that the pair was taunting their leader.

Raikou looked up and commented, "His shadow isn't here today. Maybe they had a fight?"

The other three looked hard and exchanged glances.

"Can you fight with a ghost?"

"How come we don't even know who is following him?"

"Thobari-sensei was acting odd when I asked him earlier. He told me it wasn't any of my business. I bet he knows!"

"I feel better with Leader having a guardian angel like that. I hope nothing has happened." Gau said sincerely, leaning slightly against Raikou's seat back with his elbows out. Age had not tamed his wild hair a bit and he hadn't lost his boyish face.

"Our world is so weird." Raimei laughed uneasily, twirling a lock of hair. "When did we all start believing in ghosts?"

Miharu was disappointed to find he was returning home to an empty apartment and a cold bed. He took to sleeping on the worn couch with the novel under the cushion he used as a pillow.

After two weeks of silence, he was beginning to think that Yoite figured out a way to make his wish come true himself.

The third week came around and the whole complex felt the heavy, dark cloud that loomed. No one wanted to particularly cross Miharu, not even the usually-fearless Aizawa or dogged Thobari. Even the cat decided to have a sleep over at Aizawa's for the time being.

The forth week arrived as a dreary continuation of the third. Miharu kept his promise to look into Fuuma's library. He was disappointed to find even less than he had before. He had been hoping that Fuuma would have something special, that last piece he needed.

By the fifth week things had almost returned to normal. No one was afraid to approach him anymore and the paperwork rolled in as usual. He was in middle document when the door creaked open. He didn't bother to lift his head, concentration on the words before him.

When his guest didn't speak, he raised his head in annoyance.

He was very surprised to see Yoite standing before him. The other man was transparent again, barely a tinge of color on the bleak walls of Miharu's office. His skin was so pale it faded completely into the white paint behind him like a chameleon into a green leaf.

"Make me exist." Yoite requested in paper thin voice. It was the merest of whispers but Miharu heard every word. Emerald eyes widened with disbelief and several other emotions. A small smile tugged on the younger man's lips, "I think I can do that."


End file.
